Scito Te Ipsum
by FFcrazy15
Summary: An unknown force takes the Enterprise hostage, and has an unsettling effect on the crew. S/U, McC/Ch, eventual Kirk/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (original series or otherwise). I make no money off of this.

"Captain, we've located something," Spock said, interrupting the relative quiet of the bridge.

Kirk looked up. "Detected something, Mr. Spock? Of what sort?"

"Unknown, Captain."

Jim let out a small chuckle. "Oh good. I was hoping for something unknown for a change."

"Captain, most of the phenomenons we encounter are previously undiscovered," the half-Vulcan pointed out. "On the whole, your statement is inaccurate."

Kirk opened his mouth, about to tell Spock he was being sarcastic, but decided it wasn't worth it. "Thank you Mr. Spock; I'll keep that in mind." Spock went back to looking at his work. "Any readings?"

"It seems to be in the form of a gas, Captain. Other than that, nothing else is decipherable."

"Is it benevolent or malevolent?"

"Unknown."

"Alright. Chekov, set a course around it. Full speed ahead."

"Aye, Keptin. Setting course."

There was a moment's pause as the ship redirected and sped on, and then-

_RRRRRRUUUUMBLE!_

The bridge shuddered and moved, a few crewmen being shaken from their seats. A high-pitched buzz filled the air.

The shaking stopped. Kirk (one of the ones that had been knocked from his chair) stood back up. "What in hell-?"

Spock stumbled forward and collapsed.

"Spock!" Kirk hurried over. Uhura was kneeling beside the half-Vulcan, who was on all fours. "Spock, what happened?"

"I-" He swayed slightly, bracing on Uhura for support. "I do not know, Captain. I am- experiencing symptoms of- extreme vertigo."

"Uhura, get him to sickbay," Kirk ordered, hurrying over to the comm. "Replacement science officer, to the bridge immediately."

Uhura helped Spock to his feet and called the turbo-lift. Kirk hurried over to his chair. "Sulu, what the hell was that?!"

"The gas, Captain. It shifted position almost instantaneously and intercepted us."

"Where is it now?"

"Surrounding us, sir. And-" His eyes went wide as he tried a number of controls. "And we've lost all mobility functions, sir!"

"Then why are we still moving?"

"It's transporting us, sir. For some reason, it's gone solid."

Kirk hit a button, and the red-alert sirens began to sound. "All cremembers, to your stations."

"Captain, I'll be back as soon as I can," Uhura said, as the lift arrived.

"Good. I need every able crewmember working. Tell McCoy I want a full analysis. Maybe it'll give us a clue to what this thing is."

"Aye aye, sir." She and Spock stepped in. As the door closed, Spock leaned against her again, looking dazed.

"Mr. Spock, are you alright?"

He didn't answer.

"Sir, answer me, please," she said, beginning to get very worried.

"I-" He stopped, and didn't finish. He had a strange look in his eyes. They were dull, as if he were hardly conscious, and yet there was a dark sort of gleam to them. She wasn't quite sure she liked it.

"Mr. Spock, what-?" Before she could finish, she felt his hands first on her shoulders, then her back against the wall, and finally his mouth on hers.

Uhura's eyes flew open in surprise. She tried to pull away in shock, but as she was trapped against the wall that was rather difficult. After a moment, she realized what was happening, but before she could make up her mind about it, she felt… something else. _Someone_ else. Someone that was not at all where they should be.

The lift doors opened, and she did the first thing that came to mind: hit him in the solar plexus and pushed him out through the doorway. He stumbled back into the opposite wall, hitting his head and crumpling to the ground.

She took in a gulping gasp, and then another. Slowly, she walked forward, hands shaking with adrenaline. "M-Mr. Spock?" The half-Vulcan appeared to be unconscious.

She hurried over to the nearby comm and pressed it. "Lieutenant Uhura to sickbay." _Pause._ "Mr. Spock is unconscious. I'll explain when you arrive."

**ST**

Spock's eyes fluttered open, and he grimaced ever so slightly as he sat up. His head hurt something awful. He was in the sickbay, and he spotted McCoy a few beds away. "Doctor?"

Bones looked up. "Hey, look who's finally up." He walked over. "Took you long enough. How you feeling?"

The half-Vulcan frowned slightly. "My head is… less than optimal. I assume I suffered a concussion?"

"Yeah, well, that's what you get when you try to get some sugar without asking first. Trust me, I know. I've been Kirk's friend for years." He started to ready a painkiller hypo.

"'Get some sugar?' I'm afraid I do not understand."

"Oh, sure you don't. Take this, wouldja?" He jammed the hypo into the XO's neck.

Spock frowned at the pain and said as Bones pulled it out, "Doctor, this is a very serious matter. What exactly is going on? Why don't I recall anything after I left the bridge?"

Bones finally stopped moving around and looked at him. "You can't remember anything?"

"I do not and I would like to know exactly what has happened."

There was a pause, and then McCoy said (not looking him in the eye), "Well, um, y'see, Spock… you, um, you sort of… forced yourself on the Lieutenant."

Both of Spock's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "In- in what manner, doctor?"

"Well you uh, you kissed her," Bones said. "Pretty forcefully, too. From what she told me, she pushed you out of the lift and you hit your head on the wall, which is what knocked you unconscious. She seemed pretty shook up about it."

"Was I… intimidating?" His head was in a whirl.

"I guess so. She said that she 'felt something else, where it shouldn't be.' Any idea what that could be?"

"Yes." The hobgoblin looked closer to distress than Bones had ever seen him. "I do not understand," he said, visibly disturbed. "I would never endeavor to violate Miss Uhura-"

"Now hold your horses man, this was just a kiss, you didn't 'violate' anything."

"I must apologize-"

"You're staying here and that's an order!" He pushed him slightly on the shoulders. "You can sort things out with her later, until then I want you here so I can figure out whatever it was that caused you to act like a madman."

"…Of course, doctor." He complied and lay back down. "What has happened in the time that I was unconscious?"

"Well as far as we can tell, this whatever-it-is is bringing us somewhere- maybe to its evil lair, I don't know. Whatever made you collapse on bridge is probably what made you kiss her."

"Has anyone else been affected?"

"Not yet. How do you feel?"

He did his version of a frown, thinking. "Remarkably better than before, though I am experiencing slight vertigo and large amounts of embarrassment."

Through this, the doctor had been nodding the whole time, but at this last bit he stopped, surprised. "Embarrassment?"

Spock appeared no less startled. "I- beg your pardon, Doctor; I did not intend to speak that aloud."

"Then why did you, hobgoblin?"

"I cannot say; I-" He stopped. "Hobgoblin?"

Bones blinked. "Funny; I didn't mean to say that out loud, either. Probably just like you didn't mean to kiss Uhura." He frowned deeply and straightened up. "I think we should probably inform the Captain we've got a situation on our hands."

"I agree, Doctor. Contact the Captain immediately." Spock's voice had gone deadly serious. "I do not understand what this affliction is, but without proper precaution, it may soon prove to be… quite lethal."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (TOS or otherwise). I make no money off of this.**

The sickbay doors opened, and Spock looked up. Though his expression didn't change, his posture went tense and rigid. "Lieutenant."

"Commander."

There was a moment's pause, before he said, not looking her in the eyes, "I did not expect you to come so soon. I assumed it would be a while before you would deem to visit me."

"I didn't think assuming was logical, Mr. Spock."

"Indeed it is not." There was another pause, before he said, "Miss Uhura, you must understand, I would _never_ attempt to take advantage of you; I was not in full possession of my faculties-"

"Mr. Spock, I'm not angry with you," she cut him off.

He stopped, surprised. "…You are not?"

"Of course not." She walked over and sat down on the biobed next to his, facing him. "I know you weren't in control, and besides, nothing happened."

"Yet something did, Miss Uhura." He appeared distressed, which surprised her. "Dr. McCoy informed me you… felt something odd, where it should not have been?"

She blinked. "Well yes, that was what startled me so. I presumed it was whatever was making you act so strangely."

"You presumed incorrectly." He was still not looking at her. "That which you felt out of place was my mind attempting to make contact to yours, without your permission. In Vulcan culture, it-"

"Is a privacy breach of the highest degree," she finished, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. "Yes, I know."

There was another long silence. Then, he said, "…If you are angry with me, do not hide it."

"Humans can lie, Mr. Spock, but I choose not to," Uhura said warmly. "I know you wouldn't ever try to hurt me, or anyone else on this ship for that matter. What happened wasn't your fault, and I'm truly not angry with you."

At last, he seemed to relax, raising his head to finally look her in the eyes. "Miss Uhura, your assurances have put me at ease. For this, I thank you."

"One does not thank logic," she quoted, smiling slightly. "Have a good day, Mr. Spock."

"And to you as well, Miss Uhura."

She stood with a smile and left. As the doors slid shut, McCoy walked over. "Well, ain't that something, huh?"

"You were listening, Doctor?"

"'Course I was. And it was mighty big of her to come down here and make amends with you."

"Yes. She is truly a remarkable woman."

McCoy raised an eyebrow (which was usually on the other foot- or face, as it were). "Uh-huh."

"You disagree?"

"No, no, not at all." But he couldn't stop the smirk from spreading across his face. "Not at all, Mr. Spock."

**ST**

"Status report, Captain."

Kirk looked over to see that Spock had appeared beside him. "You're back from sickbay."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Obviously."

"Well from what we can tell, we're being transported somewhere. Either this thing around us has a mind of its own, or it's being controlled."

"Where is it bringing us, and how long until we arrive?"

"We don't know."

"Course of action?"

Kirk shrugged. "What else? We wait."

"I see." He was about to go sit down at his station when Kirk caught his arm. "Yes, Captain?"

He glanced around, and then said quietly so no one else could hear, "I know what happened."

Spock was silent for a moment. "Will you impose penalty?"

"Fraternization between crewmembers isn't illegal, Spock."

"I'd hardly call it 'fraternization,' Captain, as she had no part except in ending it. My question stands."

"No, I won't. You weren't under your own control; whatever this thing is, it's making us all act funny. In any case, are you… in good enough health to work?"

"I am."

"Good. To your station, then."

"Thank you, Captain." He turned to go.

"Oh, and Spock?"

"Yes?"

"We'll be discussing this more later."

"Yes, Captain."

Spock sat down at his station and started takink readings. Kirk sat back in the Captain's chair. "Mr. Sulu, any idea where we're being taken?"

"Negative, Captain. Currently we're in uncharted space."

"On a guess, would you say it's taking us back towards charted space?"

"I highly doubt it, sir."

"Mr. Spock, any readings?"

"Nothing more than before, Captain."

"Miss Uhura, can you communicate with it?"

"No, sir. I don't think it's alive at all- hold on; someone's trying to talk through the comm." She pressed the button to end the communications. "Uhura here."

"We're havin' a bit ay a situation in engineerin', Miss Uhura," Scotty's voice rang throughout the bridge.

Kirk pressed his button. "This is the Captain. Define 'situation,' Mr. Scott."

"Ehm, weel… frae whit I can see, ensigns- Rintenu and Mortved'r their names, I think- anyway, they're in a barnie, Keptin."

"English, Mr. Scott."

"A fight, Keptin, they're in a fight." There was a crashing sound, and everyone on the bridge winced. "Och, ne'er min'. Mortved won."

"Get Ensign Rintenu to sickbay and Mortved to the brig for disorderly conduct."

"Aye Keptin." The comm clicked off.

"I wonder what all that is about," Kirk mused.

"It seems that whatever affected me, Captain, is beginning to do the same to the rest of the crew," Spock offered.

"He's right, Jim," a voice said, the turbo-lift doors opening behind them. McCoy walked over, handing the papers in his hand to the Captain. "I've left sickbay under Christine; I got something to show you."

Kirk scanned them, and then said, "Bones, I'm not a doctor; I don't know what these mean."

"They mean that whatever this thing is, it's letting off some strange form of radiation that our shields can't block. It preys on the emotion centers of the brain, exciting tempers, desires, etcetera."

"That doesn't make sense. We've faced things that have preyed on emotion before, but never with these effects. If it were true, why would Mr. Spock have been the first to be affected?"

"I believe I may have an answer for that, Captain," Spock said, standing up. "Whereas Vulcans suppress all emotional reactions, humans do not. As a race, you have somehow managed to reach a state where you can both act on your emotions and still think rationally enough to know where to, as the phrase goes, 'draw the line.' Illogical, yet some how highly functional."

"So you're saying that humans are less susceptible because we're emotional?"

"Essentially, yes. Thought I have no doubt that soon, all of our conditions will be roughly- and unfortunately- equal."

"And there's nothing we can do about it," Kirk said, letting out a low whistle. "Well it's not the worst situation we've ever been in, but it's not pleasant."

"For future reference sir, what exactly is the worst situation we've ever been in?" Sulu asked offhandedly.

Kirk considered this. "To tell you the truth, I don't really know. Death-by-giant-amoeba came close."

"No, I think it's Spock nearly killing you during-" McCoy caught Spock's look and stopped. "On second thought, being stuck in a parallel universe just may take the cake."

"If you would focus on the matter at hand," Spock said, interrupting the conversation. "Incidents are already occurring among the crew. If things continue along this course, one can only assume said incidents would escalate in both frequency and gravity."

"And what exactly do you propose I do about it?" Kirk demanded, turning to him. "The only solution I can see right now is to keep everyone in good spirits; if you have a better one I would very much like to hear it!"

Spock blinked, and for the briefest moment a flash of emotion- a dark, burning anger- flared in his eyes. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

Kirk slowly took a step back, stunned. "I… I apologize, Mr. Spock. I don't know what came over me."

"Likely the same thing that is trying to 'come over' us all," Uhura said, standing from her station. "Doctor, you said it feeds on emotions and desires."

"Yes, and it makes them more potent."

"If that's true," she said, walking over, "if we aren't careful, whatever this is will destroy us from the inside out."

"You're right," Kirk said with a slow, contemplative nod. "Bickering, fights, general unrest… maybe even eventual mutiny. Wherever this thing is taking us, it'd better get us there fast."

"I am of the opposite opinion," Spock said. "If 'wherever' this thing is taking us has the same properties as it has, I have no doubt that it will not be pleasant. In fact, it would be reasonable to assume it will be a great deal worse."

The bridge suddenly sobered up. "Worse in what way, Mr. Spock?" Kirk said finally.

There was a moment's silence as Spock clasped his hands behind his back. Finally, he said in a low voice, "Captain. If what I have already done is any indication, I believe impulse control will become highly difficult, morale will sink and, perhaps most pressingly of all… widespread fear and hopelessness may take over the crew." He looked up to meet Kirk's eyes. "And if there's one thing that is imperative to life, it is hope."

"A rather sentimental expression from you, Mr. Spock."

"If that is true, it is only a byproduct of its logicality, Captain. A being who has no reason to continue living will cease to exist."

Kirk considered this, and then walked back over to the chair. He hit the intercom. "Mr. Scott, status report."

"Nae difference, Keptin. Engine an' mobility still nae working. All crewmembers're back tae their stations." There was a pause. "Keptin, what're yer orders?"

Kirk looked around the bridge at the faces staring back at him: McCoy, cynical and vexed; Sulu, awaiting orders; Uhura, biting her lip with unveiled worry; Chekov, troubled yet trusting him absolutely; and finally Spock, his face as impassive as normal, yet with a weighty, somber look in his eyes that concerned Kirk most of all.

"Keptin?"

He sighed out through his nose. "What else, Mr. Scott? We wait. Kirk out." He pulled his finger off the intercom.

"A wise conclusion, Captain," Spock noted.

"I hope so, Mr. Spock," he replied. Then, more to himself than anyone else, "…I hope so."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (TOS or otherwise). I make no money off of this.

"Working late, Mr. Spock?"

"Clearly," the science officer said, not looking up from his station.

"You know, I've already ordered the Gamma shift off. No point in working really, not when this thing's doing the moving for us." He received no answer, so he tried again. "…Trouble sleeping?"

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, Captain."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Sarcasm, Spock? I didn't think you understood it."

"A lack of use does not necessarily mean a lack of ability. You were correct in your assumption that I am suffering slight insomnia."

Kirk shrugged. There was a moment's silence, and then he said, "At attention, Mr. Spock."

The half-Vulcan straightened up slightly, surprised, and then did as ordered, standing up beside the computers, hands clasped behind his back. His face betrayed nothing, yet on the inside he was a rolling mass of nerves.

Kirk began to pace. "Spock, you are aware that as Captain of this ship, I will do whatever I deem necessary to ensure the continued safety of its inhabitants?"

"Of course, sir."

"And that as my second officer you must be prepared to do the same in case of my demise?"

"Naturally."

"Therefore it is… logical to assume that we must have total honesty between the two of us, is it not?"

"It is, Captain."

"Mr. Spock." He turned to face his first officer. "For the sake of that good communication, I wish to know: do you… have feelings for Lieutenant Uhura?"

"Lieutenant Uhura and I are good friends and comrades," he answered, without missing a beat.

"Ah, but that is your way of avoiding a question!" Kirk pointed out triumphantly. "You answer it with a complete truth that only seems to be relevant. People can be good friends, comrades and still be in love."

"I did not indicate that they couldn't be."

"So you have affections for Miss Uhura, true or false?"

This time, there was a nanosecond's worth of hesitation. "Whether I do or do not is entirely irrelevant to-"

"Answer the question Mr. Spock; that's an order."

This time, there was the longest, most awkward pause of all. Finally, Spock said in a low voice. "Captain. …You have not spoken a falsehood."

Kirk nodded slowly. "Why haven't you said anything?"

"We're two higher-up aboard a Federation Starship, Captain; it wouldn't be a logical course of action-"

"Alright, stop that right there," Kirk said, cutting him off. "First off, I'm off duty. It's Jim. And secondly, that excuse may work on someone else, but it won't work on me. I know you, Spock. Your 'logical' reason isn't the real one, is it? Or at least, not the main one."

"…How did you infer?"

"You used a conjunction," Jim said wryly. "You only do that when you're worried."

There was a long pause. Finally, Spock said, "Captain… Jim. I am not a human. I am not even fully Vulcan. I am a mutant, the product of two things that were not intended to be fused." He paused again, as if choosing his next words carefully. "My… mother's life on Vulcan has not been an easy one… nor was my own."

Kirk was trying very hard not to let his astonishment show on his face. He had never heard Spock speak like this before.

"That… is not something I would subject Miss Uhura to, regardless of what I would wish for myself. Selfish desires only serve as barriers to logic and morale conscience."

"But if there was a way?"

Spock fixed him with a steady gaze. "With all due respect, Jim, I find that humans tend to use the word 'if' altogether too much."

Kirk was about to respond, when suddenly he saw something on the screen. "Look." He pointed.

A planet, looking similar to Earth, was coming into view, and moving quickly. Kirk hurried over to and hit the red alert, pressing the intercom. "All crewmembers, man your battle stations! Repeat: man your battle stations!"

Throughout the ship, there was the pounding of feet, the taste of panic and fear under tightly sealed lids of duty. Within moments, Kirk's upper officers poured into the bridge as he issued orders. "Uhura, try to make contact!"

"On it!"

"Mr. Spock, run readings, get everything you can! Chekov, plot an escape course!"

"Aye, Keptin!"

"Sulu, put the shields up!"

"Yes sir." The man reached for the shield operatives, but as he did so a sickening wave of- of _something_ passed through the ship. Spock stumbled over at his station, but managed to stay conscious. Sulu was not so lucky; he collapsed forward.

Kirk hit the intercom. "Bones, I need you on bridge, now!"

"Got it, Jim- Dammit!"

"What?!"

"Nurse D'Angelo's down. Christine, Leyla, with me!" The comm clicked off.

"Uhura, any contact?" Kirk demanded.

"Dozens of frequencies, Captain, but they're overriding each other- they're jamming the system!"

Kirk swore. "Mr. Spock!"

"The radiation levels are getting stronger, Captain, and-" he swayed, but braced himself. "If we don't escape, we'll be pulled into the planet."

"Keptin!" The comm went off. "Th' engines, they're workin' again, so're the shields! But I dunnea how long it'll lest!"

"Full speed away, Mr. Scott!"

The lift doors open, and McCoy rushed in with the two nurses. "Who's down, Jim?!"

"Sulu; he's only half-conscious."

"Leyla, get him in the lift."

"Yessir!" The second nurse managed to get Sulu to his feet and walk him to the lift.

McCoy and Chapel started to follow after, but Kirk stopped him. "I need you to operate the controls."

"Dammit Jim; I'm a doctor, not a helmsman!"

"That's an order Bones; get the damn shields up!"

Bones hurried over to the seat. He looked at the controls, completely bewildered. "Which one's the shields?"

"It's the red one, the red-"

Suddenly, another wave of nausea and dizziness rocked the ship. Spock fell to a knee, and McCoy tumbled to the side. "Captain, we're going to be caught in orbit!"

Kirk slammed the comm. "Mr. Scott, give her everything you've got!"

"Aye Keptin!"

"Bones, the sh-"

And suddenly, all the noise was gone. The world around him began to glow a brilliant, fizzling gold, like he was stuck on a transporter pad. He looked over at Spock, opening his mouth to yell something, but the Vulcan seemed to be ionizing, too.

The world glowed brighter and brighter. In the last second before everything broke apart, he saw the almost-gone McCoy reach out and hit the red button.

Then he was nowhere and everywhere, all in a whirling, twisting mass of atoms, and-

WHAM!

He slammed into solid ground, tumbling forward, his mind confused and jumbled as he retched. He heard McCoy swearing through his chokes beside him. "Dammit!- Hit- that damn button-"

Kirk staggered to his feet as nausea swept through him. "Bones! What happened?!"

"I hit the button Jim, I swear, but it didn't catch us in time; they must've been going bridge-down-"

None of this made any sense to him whatsoever. His vision was a blurry mess of grays and browns. Somehow he found his communicator in his hand. "Scotty! Status!"

"Out ay orbit, Keptin; shields workin'! The clood cannae pull us wi' them up!"

Without warning, he suddenly felt strong sets of arms around him, and the communicator ripped from his hand. There was the sound of crunching glass and metal as whatever had him broke it, and he tried to struggle, but it was useless. He was so nauseated and fatigued, it was like fighting a pillar.

"Move it!" a voice said in harsh, grating Standard. "Or you'll be dead before you walk again!"

Kirk stumbled forward as whatever-it-was hit him hard in the back. He saw bleary images of the others in the same situation- Chekov staggering forward weakly; Chapel tripping over hear own feet- before another whack forced him forward.

As his vision began to clear slightly, he caught flashes of wherever he was: he seemed to be in some sort of work camp, with tall, gray buildings everywhere and life forms- most of them non-human- passing him by as mere blurs.

It seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes before whoever was holding him forced him down a dim, dank staircase. A few moments after that, Kirk found himself in a hallway, and then, quite quickly, being thrown bodily into a cell.

There were loud shouts from the cell- or rather, its current occupants- as he fell forward. He thought he heard a human voice- a _female_ voice- shout something, before everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (TOS or otherwise). I make no money off of this.

When Kirk finally woke, blinking blearily and grimacing from an awful headache, he saw a flesh-colored blob, floating above him. Another blink revealed shadows and a ring of some sort of scarlet around the blob, and another after that brought the face into focus.

It was a woman, roughly mid-thirties, like him. She had hazel eyes and- what had appeared as the scarlet ring- striking red hair, which was in need of a brush. He started to push himself up with his hands.

"Don't sit up; you'll only get yourself sick," she said, her tone clearly indicating it was an order.

Kirk blinked; he was used to issuing orders, not receiving them. He noticed she was in what looked like it used to be a blue Starfleet uniform. "You're an officer?"

She brushed a piece of red hair out of her eyes, which were examining him sharply for injury. "Leyta McReynolds at your service, captain of the crew of the _USS Felicity_. Or what's left of it, anyway."

"I didn't think there were any female captains," he said, frowning slightly, which definitely didn't help his headache.

"There weren't, until my Captain and second-in-command perished. I was Head Science Officer."

"The _USS Felicity_ was lost in space… one and one-quarter years ago…" A half-voice said from the corner.

Kirk looked over, surprised. In the dim light that came from the tiny window above, he saw Spock half-lying, half-sitting against one of the walls. He looked awful.

"Spock, you're conscious. Is anyone else up?"

"Negatory… Captain. All other personnel… are unconscious… or aboard the ship."

"Spock, you look terrible," Kirk said, sitting up. He felt himself grow dizzy, and braced a hand against the dirt, trying to stay upright.

"You appear rather unwell yourself, Captain. Your head seems to have bled profusely."

Kirk touched a hand to his forehead and felt the dry blood crumble at his fingertips as he probed the wound, wincing. Somehow, he must've been hit in the head- maybe when he'd been thrown in the cell? Perhaps that was why he was so dizzy. _But then, why does Spock look sick, too?_ "Mr. Spock, any head injuries yourself?"

"No, Captain; why?"

"You seem to be as dizzy as I am."

"That's just how it is here," Leyta said. "You'll get used to it eventually."

"Eventually? How long have you been here?"

"As long as Mr. Spock said: one year, three months and thirteen days, I think. We lost our Captain in the first month, and our Second Officer about two weeks ago. I think they're still trying to figure out who the new one is."

"You are the science officer," Spock noted, "As well as third-in-command. What precisely happened to the first two?"

Leyta was about to answer when suddenly there was a loud banging noise, and the sound of footsteps coming from the stairs. Leyta shrunk back, and Kirk stood up reflexively, reaching for his non-existent phaser.

The steps continued, quickly. There were more than one of them. At least two, maybe more people. Guards? Prisoners? His crew?

Suddenly, the yellow-white beam of electric light swept in front of their cell, and then came right in front. It blinded him for a half a second, making him stumble back. In that time, the door was unlocked, and someone or something was thrown in.

The guards walked away quickly, grumbling to themselves, and Kirk hurried over to the figure on the ground. "Are you alright? Speak to me, man?"

The figure, most certainly male, braced one of his hands against the stone. "I'm… fine, newcomer." He raised his head, putting the free hand to it and wincing.

It took a moment for Kirk to register what he was seeing. The extended eyebrows. The wrinkled brow. And wasn't this the remnants of a Klingon uniform, here in his hands?

He was on his feet in an instant, dragging the Klingon up with him. He hit him once in the face, ignoring the cries of the other cell occupants (whoever hadn't been awake certainly was now), and then hit him again. He pulled his fist back for another punch. "You listen to me, Klingon: I want to know _exactly_ what's going on here or so help me I'll-"

"Captain, that is quite enough!" a voice said sharply, catching the pulled back fist. Kirk stopped, surprised, and the Klingon took the opportunity to wrench his shirt from his grasp and retreat to one of the corners of the cell, his nose bleeding heavily.

Kirk turned around, surprised. "Mr. Spock, what _exactly_ do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm preventing you from beating an innocent man into oblivion."

"_Innocent?!_ He's a Klingon!"

"Funny, Captain; I never considered you one for speciesism," Spock responded harshly.

Kirk blinked. He tried to say something, but Spock cut him off. "You know nothing of his story, he has done nothing to harm you, and yet you consider knocking him senseless justice?" When the other man didn't answer, stunned, he turned to the Klingon. "What is your name, and how did you come to be here?"

"Qapchu'," he answered warily. "And I'm here probably the same way you are: taken prisoner in uncharted space."

"Our ships were locked in battle when they found us," Leyta added. "It waited until our shields were down to take us prisoner. We managed to open a communication link."

"We were going to attempt to work together to escape, but by the time we had arrived, everyone else aboard my ship had died from the sickness," Qapchu' said, the corners of his mouth tightening.

"Is that what this is then?" McCoy said, slowly getting to his feet. "A sickness?"

"More like a slow radiation poisoning," Leyta corrected. "The _Ik-Mal_ works gradually."

"_Ik-Mal?_" Uhura said, not understanding the strange word.

"It's… hard to explain. It's not alive; it's a substance, matter. It feeds on passions and lets out a sort of tainted energy. I don't know how else to explain it."

"What are its properties?" Spock said, frowning.

"It can change state instantaneously, and it needs the energy from emotions to continue being charged. Otherwise, it's just atoms. Too much in direct contact is poisonous. Submerging someone or something in it for a matter of minutes could kill with the amount of radiation alone."

"What are its weaknesses?" Kirk said, beginning to pace. "How do we defeat it and escape?"

"Captain…?"

"Kirk."

"Captain Kirk, no one has ever escaped this camp," Leyta said solemnly. "Not once in over two hundred years."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (TOS or otherwise). I make no money off of this.

There was a moment's stunned pause, before Chapel said, "You mean we have no chance of survival?" her voice full of thinly veiled distress.

Qapchu' gave a short, barking laugh. "No chance of survival? With all due respect, miss, no man has ever had any real 'chance of survival,' even less for officers like us."

"That's enough, Ketchup," McCoy snapped.

"Qapchu'."

"I don't care."

"Keptin, is anyvun else here vith us?" Chekov said, interrupting the conversation before an argument erupted. He seemed to be the least affected, not nauseous or having to brace himself, though he did look a little pale.

"No. Everyone else is still on board the ship, wherever it is."

"If they have the shields up, they should be safe," Leyta asserted. "We tried to use ours, but they had been destroyed in the battle."

"As had ours," Qapchu' added.

"So our crew is safe but we are doomed, is that what you're saying?" Kirk demanded.

"Be grateful it is only that, Captain Kirk," Leyta said, tight-lipped. "Over half my crew is dead, another quarter near to it. Qapchu' is the only survivor of his."

"Yes, of course you're right," he said, leaning against the wall. "We should be grateful it was only us."

"Bit of a bleak place to be thankful in, don'cha think, Jim?" McCoy said under his breath.

Kirk ignored this. "You never did answer Mr. Spock's question, Captain Leyta. About your Captain and First Officer?"

At this, Leyta's shoulders slumped, and she cast her gaze downward. "They were… interrogated for information, Captain Kirk. Tortured. When it became apparent my Captain would not give anything, he was killed instantly. My First Officer was shrewder. He relayed false information for over a year before they found out." Her voice caught. "We heard his dying screams from out here."

As she closed her eyes, face grimacing with grief, Kirk took a step towards her, laying his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She nodded, and then managed to compose herself, opening her eyes. "Your comfort is appreciated, Captain." She glanced over at Qapchu'. "We know that not much is given here."

"We suspect they will eventually do the same to us," the Klingon said grimly. "For this reason-"

"-We have agreed to a pact: not myself, nor him, nor any of my crew will ever betray the Empire or the Federation," Leyta finished.

"I never thought I'd see the day a Klingon and a Federation Officer would work together," Kirk said.

Her eyes flashed. "Those distinctions are useless here, Captain. This enemy is far greater than either of our powers alone. Maybe even combined. If the best we can do is give our lives to ensure the safety of both parties, then so be it."

Jim's eyes narrowed slightly, but he only said, "I see."

"You will," the other Captain countered.

**ST**

"You seem to be holding up, Christine."

The nurse nodded wearily. "I feel a little faint… But there others are worse; you should be tending to them."

"If I could I would," Bones said, sitting down beside her with his back to the wall. "There's nothing to use; couldn't even make a damn splint if I wanted to."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Without my tools, there's not much either of us can do." He ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. "I haven't felt so damn useless in who knows how long."

Chapel nodded, and then glanced over at Spock, worried. Bones caught the look. "He's the worst off. It affects him more severely than it does us, and the idiot keeps trying to pretend he's fine, which I know he isn't. If he was, he'd be able to hear us right now."

"You mean he can't?"

"Oh maybe he _can,_ but he's certainly feeling too awful to be paying attention." His scowl became more pronounced. "I'm worried about him, Christine. As much as the hobgoblin annoys me some days, I don't like seeing him like this. He's sick as a dog and there's nothing we can do about it." He looked over her. "Worried about you too, y'know."

"Me? Whatever for?"

"Well as a general rule, you're not supposed to be here."

She blinked. "Are any of us?"

He chuckled. "A'right, y'gotta point. I meant, you're not an away-mission officer. All the rest'a us get in these sorts of things pretty often, 'sides maybe Chekov, and he's just a kid. But you're not used to this kind of treatment."

"Well I'll try to live up to the 'away-mission' standards."  
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Not many standards really, just make sure you don't get yerself killed."

"I'll do my best, Doctor."

The corner rose another fraction of an inch, and then he stood up. "Alright, break's over. Back to work."

He was about to walk over to Kirk (who was trying to get some of the blood out of his hair), when Chapel said, "Are you sure you're alright, Leonard?"

He chuckled. "As alright as any a'us can be. Get some rest, nurse; I get the feeling tomorrow's gonna be a rough day."

She nodded, then leaned back against the stone wall of the cell and closed her eyes. Within moments, she was out like a light.

**ST**

It was very dark when her eyes fluttered open again, and Uhura suspected some hours had passed and it was now night. This was confirmed by a glance towards the window, where a few stars sprinkled through the gap. She saw a figure standing by the window, and stood up quietly, walking over.

Spock glanced at her, and then went back to looking at the sky. After a long moment, he said, "This planet has no moon. Only stars."

"Like Vulcan," she said, understanding.

"Indeed."

There was another pause, before she said, "When I was a little girl in Kenya, I remember looking up at the sky at night… I promised myself I'd be up there someday, in that wide, free blue… I wanted to touch the stars." She smiled a little. "Well I suppose that's silly, isn't it?"

"Not entirely."

"Oh?"

"…I had similar aspirations as a child."

"To touch the stars?" she said, laughing.

"Not quite; I was interested in Starfleet. However, my father desired I attend the Science Academy when I came of age, and though I abhorred the idea of remaining on Vulcan all my life… I agreed."

"Then how did you end up here?"

A miniscule muscle in his cheek tightened. "I applied to the Academy. Upon my interview and acceptance, the headmaster made a comment regarding my… disadvantage."

"Your mother," she said. It wasn't a question.

He nodded curtly. "I decided my abilities would be better employed in Starfleet."

She was silent for a moment, and then said softly, "Thank you for telling me that, Mr. Spock."

Another nod, this time without a response.

She smiled slightly, and then said, "We'd best get some sleep. Good evening, Mr. Spock."

"And to you as well, Lieutenant Uhura."

Uhura nodded and stepped back from the window, attempting to go around him. Unfortunately, he did the same thing at the exact moment, and bumped into her. Instinctively, he reached out to steady her.

"Thank you," she said, regaining her balance.

"No troub-" It was at this moment he became acutely aware of their current position: she had a grasp on both of his forearms, and he one hand on her waist and the other her shoulder. A position that could and had gone from neutral to questionable in a matter of seconds.

What was more disturbing was that he was having a very difficult time reversing that transformation. His thumb was resting on the dark, silky skin of her collarbone, and he could feel his cheeks turning emerald with heat, which was entirely illogical because Vulcans _did not_ blush. _Get ahold of yourself, _his mind ordered him, but with every passing moment he felt less and less inclined to obey that command. He leaned forward…

The sound of heavy, thumping boots startled him, as well as everyone else out of their sleep. Spock took a step back, one hand reaching for his missing phaser, the other pushing Uhura back behind him.

Kirk got to his feet, taking the front of the cell. Into view came three guards. It was the first time any of them had ever gotten a look at them, and Kirk noticed that they were almost entirely humanoid in figure. The only difference were the eyes, which glowed cat-like in the dark; the ears, which were elongated but not pointed; and the physique, which was clearly stronger than that of any human. Whoever these people were, they seemed to be a race of super-humans.

The foremost one, who had a badge on his uniform, came forward. He waved a small disk of some sort in front of the cell door, and it opened. He stepped inside.

In an instant, Kirk had thrown a punch at his face, aiming for a knockout. Before he knew what was happening, he was on the floor, pain throbbing in his lower back.

The guard looked down at him in disdain. "_Pathetic_." There was something strange about how he said it, but Kirk couldn't put a finger on it. He turned to the two others and said, "_Take the weakest one_."

Chekov's eyes went wide, and he shrunk back. He needn't have worried; the guards didn't even come close to him. Instead, they went straight over to Spock.

The half-Vulcan didn't even put up a fight, nodding as if he'd been expecting this. Kirk stumbled to his feet. "Now hold on here, you let him-"

"Jim," Spock said, in a warning tone. The use of his first name alone made him stop, surprised. "Do not object. This is standard procedure. Be glad it is me and not another, such as Captain Scott."

_Captain_ Scott. Not acting-Captain. Suddenly, Kirk understood. This was in his protection. Spock was allowing them to think he was first in command here.

Well, he was just not going to put up with that. "No see here, I'm not going to let you-"

"I believe the definition of 'order' makes them non-negotiable, Mr. Kirk. For the sake of Starfleet and the crew, you will stand aside."

_For the sake of Starfleet._ Of course. Spock knew less information than he did; that was a fact. And so, though he loathed it with every fiber of his being, he nodded and stepped back.

The guards led Spock out of the cell, the door closing automatically behind them. As soon as it shut, Kirk hurried over to it, trying to open it. It was no use. He turned back, looking at Leyta. "What will they do to him?"

She looked back at him, mouth tight.

He was in front of her in a moment, grabbing at her shoulders desperately. "What will they do to him?!" he demanded.

She shoved him away. "Even if I could tell you it wouldn't help," she said harshly. "He will either return or he will die. There is _nothing_ we can do."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (TOS or otherwise). I make no money off of this.

_Captain's Log, stardate 5929.3. A humanoid-appearing enemy has taken six crewmembers of the USS Enterprise, including myself, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Lieutenant Uhura, Ensign Chekov and Nurse Chapel captive on an unknown planet. Currently, we are being held hostage in a cell containing one Captain Leyta of the Starship Felicity, and one Mr. Qapchu', a Klingon. Both were also taken captive in the same method._

_ Through a stroke of good luck and the actions of Dr. McCoy, my ship is free, but we do not know where they are, and even if they were near, they would be unable to beam us up. Mr. Spock has been taken from the cell, presumably for questioning. We do not know when or even if he will return._

Hours passed with still no sign of Spock. A guard brought a loaf of bread and a bucket of water with a ladle, but aside from that, the occupants of the cell were uninterrupted. It was nearing daybreak when the thumping boots returned, and the trio of guards yanked open the door, throwing in a blue-shirted figure and locking it behind him.

McCoy and Kirk scrambled over, kneeling down beside him. Spock wasn't moving except for the labored breaths he drew.

"Jim, help me get him on his back," McCoy ordered. He and Kirk rolled him over, and behind them Chekov let out a sharp cry of, "_Mr. Spock!"_

The half-Vulcan's shirt was slashed in several places and soaked with emerald blood. More of it was clotted in his hair. There was dark green and black bruising all over, particularly on his face, and blood stained the corners of his mouth from where he'd bitten through his tongue. His already skin now looked paper-white, aside from the bruising, and his arm stuck out at an odd angle from his shoulder. As they watched, Spock took in one shuddering breath and choked another out, an alternating series of gasping and retching.

"Spock, what did they do to you?" McCoy said, shocked.

"'W-what… didn't… they'... is more… ap-appropriate," Spock managed to get out hoarsely, fighting his way onto his hands and knees, heaving as if he were about to throw up.

"Sarcasm?" McCoy said, for a moment startled out of his normal professionalism. "Is this really the time?"

"C-Correct. I believe… s-s-staunching… the bleeding-" A tremor seemed to race through him, and he collapsed again.

"Jim, put pressure on his torso. Christine, get his arm back in place!"

"Yessir." She hurried over. "Hold still, Mr. Spock."

"What did they do?" McCoy demanded.

The half-Vulcan closed his eyes, seeming to hardly feel it as Chapel popped his shoulder back into place. This more than anything was an indication to what he'd been through in the last few hours: that sort of action would make even the bravest man grimace.

"Spock, I need an answer!"

"They… interrogated me…"

"Beat you?"

An exhausted nod. "Captain, I… did not… talk."

"You deserve a hundred badges, Spock," Jim said, pressing on his lower chest, trying to stop some of the blood. "And I'll give them to you personally if we ever get out of this place."

Uhura knelt down beside him with a rag (taken from the small pile in the corner that was presumably supposed to act as a bed) soaked with water and began to try to wash some of the blood away. "Dr. McCoy, there's so much of it."

"Too much. Spock, you've lost a lot of blood," McCoy growled.

"Thank you… for informing me such… _Doctor_."

"Shut up and stop moving. Packchu!"

"Qapchu'," the Klingon corrected.

"Just get over here and help me."

Over the course of the next several minutes, they managed to get the most severe wounds bandaged up with spare bits of cloth, and then get the half-Vulcan sitting up against a wall, McCoy caught in a loop of alternating expletives and thanksgiving for Vulcan physiology. Uhura handed Spock a cup of water. "Drink it, if you can."

He gave a bleary nod and lifted the cup to his lips, shaking. He winced as he swallowed. McCoy noticed this. "Tongue hurt?"

"Indeed." He didn't elaborate, but instead took another swallow, this time, his face carefully controlled. "What is the time?"

"Just vefore daybreak, Mr. Spock," Chekov said

"We'll have to work as soon as the sun's up," Leyta informed them. "Even you, Commander Spock; I'm terribly sorry."

"Work? In his condition?" Chapel demanded. "He'll pass out from blood loss in minutes; you know that, Doctor," she pleaded, turning to McCoy.

"Look, If there's anything we can do-"

"I will be fine, Doctor," Spock said, cutting into the conversation.

"For how long, Spock? How long?" McCoy ran a hand through his hair. "If I had some medicine, even a copper tablet-"

"I will be fine," Spock said again, this time more firmly.

McCoy glared at him for a long moment, scrutinizing him. Finally, he said, "…You damn fool. Fine. Since there's nothing we can do, if you think you can handle it-"

"I will 'handle' what I must. To worry about the inevitable is illogical."

"But entirely human."

He raised a blood-clotted eyebrow. "Precisely."

**ST**

They managed to get him somewhat cleaned up and on his feet by the time the sun rose. As soon as the first ray of sunlight peaked over what they could now see as dirty, gray buildings of the camp, the sound of heavy thumping boots could be heard descending the stairs.

The guards led the eight of them out of the building, other prisoners joining them on the stairs. Each man or woman- even, occasionally, Kirk thought he saw a child- had their heads down, shadows ringing under their eyes, stringy hair falling in their faces. Some wore remnants of what appeared to be their old clothes; others, shapeless, sackcloth-like uniforms. As they left the building, Kirk saw other streams of prisoners, all in the same condition, and all in the same position.

The guards began dividing them off into groups- most of the women went one way, most of the men went the other. While they were waiting to be sorted, a young man in red sidled up to them and said in a low voice. "Captain Leyta; engineering reporting for duty."

"Simile."

"Yes ma'am."

Kirk frowned as he slipped off. "Simile?"

"Human music notation, Captain," Spock answered in a low voice. "It means to repeat the same measure. I assume that this 'measure,' per say, is the daily procedure here."

Leyta gave this order three more times (one to a science officer, one to a technical officer, and the last to a security officer), before they reached the front of the line. Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Chekov and Qapchu' were sent off with the other men (or what they assumed were men), whereas Leyta, Uhura and Chapel went with the women.

The guards watched them as they walked past, seeming to inspect them. Just as Kirk had passed through, there was a sharp scream behind them. He whirled around.

A sickly-looking young woman in an old red uniform was being held by one of the guards. She fought and screamed, but it was no use. Nobody was looking at her, except Leyta in the other line, who seemed to be fighting her way through.

"_She is clearly ill_," said one of the guards coldly. "_Take her to be incinerated."_

"NO!" she screamed, fighting. "NO, PLEASE! PLEASE!"

Before Kirk could start fighting his way to her, Bones was in front of them. "I'm a doctor!" he shouted. "A doctor, you understand that?!"

The woman stopped screaming, stunned. The guards glanced down at him. "_You can heal her?_"

"Well with the right medicine, I can-"

_"We cannot waste resources."_ He started to turn away.

"Wait!" McCoy yelled desperately. "Wait, yes, I can cure her! Me and my nurse, we can help her! Just give us a few days!"

There was a long, long moment, before the guard put the woman down. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

_"You have two days,"_ the guard said. _"If she is not well by sunrise the day after next, she will be incinerated, and you and your 'nurse' will be punished."_

Bones nodded warily as Chapel joined his side, helping support the woman. One of the guards stepped forward and 'escorted' them back through the crowds.

As they continued to follow the crowd of men, Spock asked Kirk, "You seem worried, Captain."

Kirk nodded, sighing out through his nose. "They kill the weak, the sickly and injured. Anyone could die here in a moment…"

"Captain Leyta has lived here for four hundred and seventy days; I assure you she will be alright for another."

He glanced over at him. "You really don't miss a thing, do you?"

"I'm merely perceptive, Captain. You find her… most interesting."

Kirk raised an eyebrow (usually on the other foot- or face). "Like you find Lieutenant Uhura interesting?"  
"…I have no comment on that matter."

**ST**

"Ouch!"

Leyta looked over at her. "Everyone does that for the first few weeks; don't worry about it."

"Well it hurts like the dickens!" Uhura said, sucking on her finger. "I haven't cooked since I graduated the Academy; I guess I've been taking the replicators for granted. What is this food, anyway?"

Leyta shrugged. "I don't know. The best we can figure out is it's some sort of fruit." She cut the pod open with the oddly-shaped knife and scooped out the inside. "So you're a Lieutenant?"

"Yes; I'm head communications officer." She followed the Captain's lead. "I can't figure out how they do it."

"How they do what?"

"Well, their language. It's not English, or any Earth language, or any alien language I've ever head. But we all understand it perfectly."

Leyta blinked. "I never noticed."

"If you listen hard, really hard, you hear the sounds they're making, not just the meaning, and they aren't any language I've ever heard before. It's really quite interesting." She shook her head, and then said, "What about you? You're the Head Science Officer, aren't you?"

She nodded. "Is, was. Will be again if I ever get out of here." She cut open another pod, scooped out the gelatinous inside. "I'm the acting-Captain. My crew is dying, Lieutenant. Slowly and surely. I give the same order every day: keep your head down. Look for anything that could help. Survive." Another pod. "I almost lost another member today, Ensign Sarah Selway. I would have, if it hadn't been for your doctor and nurse. What else can I do?"

Uhura gave a half-shrug, sympathy in her eyes. "Keep hoping? I suppose that's all any of us can do, isn't it?"

A ghost of a smile twitched at the redhead's lips. "Yes, I suppose so. Thank you, Lieutenant. I've been running low on hope as of late."

"Well, there certainly isn't much cause for it here." She cut another open herself. "Do we keep the same jobs day-to-day?"

"Not always. Sometimes, we switch even hour-to-hour; others, we keep the same for weeks on end."

"What other jobs are there?"

"Servers, dancers, tenders to their broods. I don't know what the men do; factory workers and harvesters, maybe." She lifted a hand, and another woman came to take their bowl of gelatin-like substance away. "We are slaves, all of us. Worked to death, or killed when we are too sick, old or useless to work anymore. It's terrible here."

"It gives me shivers," Uhura agreed.

"They burn the bodies… and the near-dead. It is their way of killing us off, aside from death by slow torture."

"So that is what they meant by-"

"Incineration? Yes." She cut open another, this time much more forcefully. "Sarah would have been burnt to ashes. She may still."

"Dr. McCoy and Christine will do all they can," Uhura said.

"But will it be enough?" She let out a slow sigh. "She is in their hands now."

**ST**

"Her fever's broken, Leonard."

"Good. See if you can wake her up, get her to drink something."

Chapel nodded, and then gently shook the woman awake. "Wake up, dear. We have some water for you."

The woman- Sarah, she'd told them her name was- blinked once, and then twice, before focusing on the woman above her. "Oh…"

"Try to drink some of this," Chapel said, adjusting the wet cloth on her forehead and lowering the ladle to her lips.

Sarah sipped some of the water, and then said hoarsely, "Thank you both… for rescuing me…"

"Y'said yer name's Sarah?" Bones said, kneeling down beside her.

"Yes… Sarah Selway. I-" She let out a hoarse, barking cough. "I thought…"

"You're safe here with us," McCoy told her. "Now drink some more and rest, if you can."

She nodded, taking another drink, and then relaxed back again on the pile of rags that was serving as both bed and cover. Within moments, she was asleep again.

"You're a good doctor, Leonard," Chapel said, after a moment. "Even in the worst of conditions you can still save a life."

"I couldn't do it without an able nurse." He leaned back against the wall. "I never would've wanted you down here- not any more than I would've wanted any of us- but I'm damn grateful you are."

"That's a very kind thing to say, Leonard, but I feel I won't be much help at all."

"Don't be ridiculous. Every bit of medical help I can get is valuable, and you're like a walking bank."

She laughed a little. "Every girl's dream." She looked back at the sleeping ensign. "Will she be alright?"

"Hell if I know. But we'll do our best." He gave a bitter half-chuckle. "I remember taking the Oath, you know. Thought I'd be helping patients back in Georgia, with a facility and nurses and actual _medicine_. Never thought I'd end up here."

"None of us ever did."

He nodded, looked down at the girl again. "None of us."

**ST**

When the six returned that evening, Sarah was still asleep. They all stumbled back into the room, exhausted. Spock sat down as Chekov (the last in line) tripped inside as the guard behind him shoved him in, landing on his knees. The door clanged shut behind him.

The young Russian winced and raised his head. "Ach, if zis vas Russia those Cossacks'd-" He stopped, seeing the young lady in front of him. "Is zis…?"

"Ensign Sarah Selway," Leyta said. "What's her condition, Doctor?"

"Her fever broke this afternoon, and she's getting better, slowly. She should be fine by the day after tomorrow, but someone'll have to stay with her. I could, but that'd be another day's work gone and probably wouldn't help tempers 'round here."

"I could do it, sir," Chekov volunteered. "After all, you can vork harder and better zan I, and zey- whoever 'zey' are- know zat."

"It is a logical idea, Doctor," Spock pointed out.

Bones considered this. "A'right kid, fine. You'll stay here tomorrow."

"Zhank you, sir."

As they all settled in for the evening, it did not escape the Captain that Chekov could not take his eyes of the other young ensign.

***Yes, that was a 2009 reference. ; D**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (TOS or otherwise). I make no money off of this.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted in the sunlight, shading her eyes. "Mmm…"

"Ah, Miss! You are avake!" A shadowy figure came into view, and, as her eyes grew used to the light, she saw it was a young man about her age, in a gold Starfleet uniform. "Now you just stay vere you are; Dr. McCoy told me you veren't to get up. Can you drink?"

"Yes, I think so." She slowly sat up, taking the ladle of water he handed to her. After drinking a bit, she said, "Who are you?"

"Ensign Pavel Chekov, Miss, of ze Starship Enterprise."

She nodded, still not fully awake, and brushed her dark hair out of her eyes. "Ensign Sarah Selway, the Starship Felicity."

"It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And you too, Chekov."

He smiled a little, blushing. "To you, miss, I am Pavel."

"Pavel," she said, testing out the name. "I like it. Are you Russian?"

"Da," he said, nodding. "I vas born in Leningrad- St. Petersburg, you'd call it."

"I see." She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, tired. When she opened them again, she saw he was still watching her. "Pavel, why are you staring at me?"

His blush deepened. "I am sorry, Miss, only- vell, you are ze most beautiful girl I've ever seen." This last part came out in a rush, and he ducked his head after saying it.

"Oh…" she said, surprised. "I- well, thank you, Pavel."

"Ehm, da. You are velcome." He rubbed the back of his neck.

There was a pause, before they both spoke at the same time.

"-I'm sorry, zat was-"

"-I didn't mean I-"

They both fell silent. Finally, Sarah said, "Pavel?"

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking about?" She went a little red herself. "If you want to tell me, I mean."

"Nyet; it's silly."

"I don't mind."

He looked over. "You veelly vant to know?" she nodded, and he gave a little half-laugh. "A story, one my mozer used to tell me. A fairytale."

"What's it about?"

"The _Tsarvena_ Maria Morevna. She vas a varrior-princess, and ze most beautiful voman in ze entire vorld. She vas taken prisoner by ze Vizard Koshchei. Ze _Tsarvitch_ Alexei vent to great lengths to get her back."

"What is a… Tsarvena?"

"Oh, a princess, miss. Like your name: _Sarah._"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You know the meaning?"

"Da. Hebrew is derived from Russian, you know."

"Well I don't know about that," she said, laughing a little, and then that laugh turned into a cough.

"Ach, drink, drink." He scooped some more water into the ladle and handed it to her.

She took a gulp, and then said, "Why are you here instead of the doctor?"

"Only vun needed to stay behind. I volunteered, since Dr. McCoy vas needed for vork."

"I see. Thank you, Pavel." She smiled at him, and he smiled back, cheeks flushing red.

**ST**

The weary workers returned that night. McCoy and Chapel both stooped down to inspect Sarah. "How're you doing, Ensign?"

"Much better, doctor; thank you." She glanced at Chekov. "Pavel took very good care of me all day."

"Ah no, miss, I didn't do much," the navigator said, ducking his head.

"Well, he was very kind." She smiled briefly, and then was once again all responsibility. "I believe I will be fit for duty tomorrow, Captain."

"I'm glad to hear it, Ensign," Leyta said.

"'Scuse me, Miss, Ma'am, but, vere is Mr. Qapchu'?" Chekov asked.

Everyone looked up, surprised. After a moment, Uhura said, "Why- he isn't here! I could swear he was right behind us."

"That's because he was," Kirk said, voice low. "They must've pulled him out of line."

"For questioning," Leyta said, letting out an involuntary sigh.

Kirk turned, surprised. "You sound relieved, Captain. I thought you liked the Klingon?"

It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it the moment he did it. In an instant, she was in front of him, standing altogether to close, nostrils flared and fire blazing in her eyes.

"How _dare_ you!" she seethed. "How dare you insinuate I'm happy he's in pain! I am relieved because he is not being _killed_ right now, Kirk!"

"I don't want him dead any more than you do, but I cannot understand why you _trust _him!"

"You can't understand why? I'll tell you why: because he is the lone survivor of his ship! Because he lost everything! Because he is an honorable man and a friend, and yes, because I count him as part of my crew!"

"He's a Klingon!"

"He's a soldier!" she retorted. "A soldier far from home, doomed to die a slave on an uncharted planet. Do you, a man of the same description, the same fate, honestly have no empathy towards him?"

Kirk opened his mouth to answer, but found he was unable to. He was acutely aware of the others staring at him.

Leyta's eyes hardened, the look that of a battle-worn Captain that Kirk knew so well, and she said in a low, barely-controlled voice, "You are a fool." She turned away and walked over to the window. Kirk looked around at the others. One by one, they all slowly looked down or away. Finally, he turned to Spock.

The half-Vulcan looked back silently. Then, he glanced down at one of the green-stained cuts on his shirt from the evening before, and then back up, his gaze piercing and unwavering. Finally, Kirk himself looked away, a distinct sense of shame welling up in him. Spock hadn't needed words to get his message across.

**ST**

It was much later that the door opened, and Qapchu' finally stumbled in. Kirk stood and caught him before he could fall.

The Klingon looked at him blearily, eyes ringed with shiners and bruises all across his chin. He clutched at his left wrist with his right hand, and his lips were swollen and bloody.

"Sit down; I'll help you," Kirk said, guiding him to a wall. Qapchu' slid to the ground, letting out a low groan. "What is it? Your wrist?"

He nodded. "It's sprained…"

"Well I'm no doctor, but I can make you a decent splint. No reason to wake Bones up if we don't have to."

He grunted in acknowledgement. As he started to wrap his hand, Qapchu' asked, "Captain. Why are you helping me?"

Kirk paused, thought for a moment. Finally, he said, "Captain Leyta and my First Officer made it clear to me I haven't exactly given you a fair shot, all things considered. I decided I should fix that."

Qapchu' nodded, but said nothing. There was a long, awkward moment of silence, before Kirk finished. "There. Try not to move it."

"Thank you."

Another pause, and then-

"Captain, what is your Earth like?"

Kirk blinked. "Why do you want to know?"

Qapchu' shrugged. "Curiosity. Most head Federation officers hail from Earth; I'd like to know more about it."

He considered this, and then said, "It's a very diverse planet. Countless different life-forms, roughly eight billion humans alone. I suppose it's much like other planetary societies in some ways, you know, common traits- governments, religion, organized societies." Another pause. "We take… great pride, in many things. Some search for beauty, others for truth… many are 'do-gooders,' people who seek to give others better lives."

"And your evils?"

"…I suppose we have some; I'm not too proud to admit it. We have a long and bloody history. But that isn't what defines us."

"And yet you think it defines us?"

Kirk blinked, surprised. "What?"

"What do you know of our people, Captain, aside from our tactics, our strategies of war? What do you know of our art, how it can show you in perfect clarity the beauty of a rising moon? Of our music, the enchantment of it? Of the sound of a child's laugh as you teach her our games?" He fell silent, lost in thought.

"Do you… have a family back home, Qapchu'?"

Slowly, the Klingon nodded. "I have a wife. In this language, you would call her Joy. Beautiful, kind… the gentlest woman you would ever meet. And my baby girl, my Purity. I was sent out to war before she was but a year old."

"You miss them."

He sighed. "More than you can ever know, Captain." He looked at Kirk. "You know us only as warriors, Captain. _They_ are what we fight for. For our wives, our children… for the hope that after our service is over, we will be among the lucky ones that go home to our families."

"Do many not return?"

"The odds are not with us."

"Then why do you fight?" he demanded. "Surely you know it's wrong, that your mission is wrong?"

Qapchu' shrugged. "It is our way of life. Even if I disagreed, it would not matter. Every young man fights, and if they are lucky they return. It is why we take wives so early on."

"But surely if enough refused-"

"Then what, Captain? You know as well as I do that if we stopped fighting, your Federation would come to punish us for what we've done. For us warriors, yes, I could understand, but what of our women and children? Could your Federation distinguish between the guilty and innocent? Your own history is bloody; you said so yourself."

"We're not all like that."

Qapchu' laughed. "No? You're the one who attacked me the moment you saw me, or don't you remember?"

That stunned him. "I… I suppose that's true. And I regret it. I-" He swallowed his pride. "I apologize. It was wrong- though instinctive, you understand."

The Klingon chuckled again, this time lighter. "I do. Remember, I am a solider, just like you." He smiled slightly. "In truth, Captain, if all men were like you, I would not be so worried."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"As you should. Do you have a family, Captain?"

"The crew of the Enterprise is my family, Qapchu'. Every member of it."

"No wife? No child?"

"No."

"A shame," Qapchu' said. "Perhaps one day, Captain."

"Perhaps."

The Klingon looked him over for a moment, and then leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Kirk took that as a sign to shut up and get some sleep. He laid his head back against the wall as well, trying to sleep.

It was many hours before he succeeded.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (TOS or otherwise). I make no money off of this.

The next day passed quickly. Sarah Selway was well again- or as 'well' as possible- and nobody encountered trouble. They were learning how to keep their heads down. Case in point: speaking quietly.

"Do you zink zey're still up zere, Keptin?" Chekov said in a low voice, as they worked their factory jobs.

Kirk didn't take his eyes off the conveyor belt in front of him, but he answered the young navigator. "It's possible they are. After all, this is uncharted space; they wouldn't know which way to go.

"Da, zat's true."

"What we need to do," Kirk said, lowering his voice even further, "Is find out if they have a ship nearby we get our hands on."

"It's highly illogical to assume there is one, Captain," Spock asserted. "From what we have seen, they do not go into space themselves, but rather send their _Ik-Mal_ out to capture new ships for them, thus reducing casualties."

Kirk scowled. "I didn't ask for an analysis, Spock."

The half-Vulcan glanced at him. "I am aware, Captain. I delivered it anyway."

"Well don't do it again," he snapped, the scowl growing more pronounced.

Spock's face didn't change at all, but instead he said coolly, "I _will_ do it again, if situation deems it necessary."

"That's insubordination, Mr. Spock," Kirk said angrily.

Spock turned to him, raised an eyebrow. "With all _due_ respect, Captain, you should be aware that your first officer is currently considering an assault on his superior, which would be an act of mutiny," he retorted, face deceptively calm. "He therefore wishes to convey his hope you will appreciate that insubordination is as far as he's gone."

Kirk straightened up to his full height. "Are you challenging me?"

"Were I doing so, I doubt it'd be much of a fight."

"Who do you think you-"

"Enough, both of you!" McCoy growled, cutting them off. "I'd like to get through the day without having another patient and you two _children _aren't helping. Grow the hell up!"

Kirk opened his mouth to retort, and then stopped. He looked back over at his XO. "He's right," he admitted grudgingly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spock."

"I apologize as well, Captain. I am… not feeling myself, as of late."

"None of us are," Chekov said. "It's zat- zat _Ik-Mal_ Keptin Leyta told us about, I zink."

"Yeah, about that," McCoy said, reaching out to adjust something on the belt, "How're the three of you doing? Specially you, Spock; any dizziness?"

"I am fine now, Doctor."

"The cuts on your torso?"

"They are healing sufficiently."

He grunted, unconvinced. "You gave me a right scare there, hobgoblin. One of them got too close to your heart for my liking."

"I assure you, I am quite alright."

Bones regarded him shrewdly. "If you say so. Jim, Chekov?"

"Ach, a little light-headed, but I am becoming used to it, sir," Chekov said.

"Same."

"Alright, well, don't get yourselves sick. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker."

Chekov glanced over at one of the guards and then said in a very low tone. "Sirs, vat do you zink zey vant from us?"

"Their questioning focused mainly on information," Spock noted. "They seemed very intent on getting it."

"Yeah, we know," McCoy muttered. "What kind of information?"

Spock frowned slightly, recalling. "They started inquiring me as to hierarchy systems of Earth, society, other matters such as those."

"That's not unusual, then," Kirk said.

"No," Spock agreed, though he still looked pensive. Then, his eyes widened, as something hit him. "No… No, it _is_ unusual, Captain."

"Why?"

"They said 'Earth' and 'our planet' specifically. Not my, _our_." He was speaking very rapidly, as if his mind was racing down a path he'd only just discovered. "They assumed we were all hailed from your world. They assumed _I_ was Terran."

"Vich means…?" Chekov said, confused.

"It means two very important details: firstly, they are fallible, and secondly, they know little of Earth, and nothing of Vulcan. They could not distinguish between you and me."

"And they asked about Earth specifically," Kirk said, catching on. "Not battle strategy or weaponry. They must've gotten all that from the _Felicity_. They had to have taken the ship-"

"And examined it, which means they did not dispose of it; they utilized it, and it may still be in their possession," Spock finished. "Precisely."

Chekov leaned in towards Bones. "…Vat just happened?" he said in a low tone.

"Hell if I know; I'm a doctor, not some sort of Sherlock Holmes."

"We won't be able to search during the night," Kirk reasoned. "So someone will have to do it during work hours." He looked around. "They won't notice if one of us leaves immediately."

"Captain, I'm afraid I must protest," Spock said.

"I haven't even said anything-"

"But you will," the half-Vulcan cut him off. "And as such I simply cannot allow you to put yourself in that sort of danger. You are the captain of a federation starship- a starship, I remind you, is still fully functioning above our very heads." He looked him straight in the eyes. "They need you, Jim. I will go in your stead."

Kirk glanced over at the guards, and then muttered, "Hurry. And keep safe."

He raised an eyebrow. "That _was_ my intention, Captain." And before anyone could say another word about it, he was gone, vanished into the swirling masses of the factory.

Spock glanced around, and then slipped out one of the back doors in the victory. Nobody noticed, and he made a mental note of the lax security. _Interesting._

The courtyard surrounding the factory was expectedly dead, in both activity and color. The thin film of gray dust that prevailed throughout the camp and had been stirred up by the morning activity had long since settled. Spock made sure to walk underneath the overhangs of the various buildings where he could, so his footprints wouldn't be noticed. His footsteps seemed to echo in the windless air, bouncing off the buildings and massive stone walls that surrounded the entirety of the expansive camp.

Not too far away, he spotted a red-dressed figure exit one of the gray buildings, one whom he recognized. He altered his course and walked over, calling out a low, "Lieutenant."

Uhura looked over, surprised. "Mr. Spock?" she said, as he drew nearer. "What are you doing here?"

"I could inquire of you the same."

"I was delivering some of the laundry," she answered. She glanced around and lowered her voice. "You looking around?"

"Yes. Logic dictates that there may be a ship or collection of ships being held here somewhere. A large building above ground or a holding complex beneath would suffice. Do you know of such a structure?"

"Far as I can tell, all there is around here are barracks and factories, and the houses where _they_ live."

"Then it must be belowground." He stopped suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

He didn't answer, but instead took her by the arm. "This way," he said in a low voice, leading her towards the side of the nearest building- a factory- as quickly as possible.

She heard it a few seconds later: the sound of heavy boots, many of them, marching quickly. "They must be guards on their rounds," Spock said in a low voice.

"Well I'm supposed to be here."

"But I am not, and seeing you in my company will put you in suspicion."

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and they began to hurry along the wall of the factory. "Look," Uhura whispered, tilting her head.

He saw what she was motioning to: a back door, probably an emergency exit. "Go," he ordered. They hurried over and she pulled the door open just as the guards rounded the corner of the building.

Uhura practically dove in. Spock followed and pulled the door shut behind him. All around him, there were more busy workers. Uhura whispered, "Did they see us?"

"I do not know." He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember their reactions. "It is possible. We need to relocate, and quickly."

"Where?"

He scanned the area, and saw another door, not too far away. "That way."

They made their way through the workers, moving as fast as they could. Just as they reached the door, the one they'd entered through opened, and Spock caught a glimpse of angry-looking guards. "Hurry," he urged.

They both slipped inside and found themselves in an industrial-style hallway. There were wooden doors on either side and steps on the far end.

They hurried over to the steps. Uhura stopped, listening. They heard the noise of thumping boots outside.

They descended the stairs, nearly running. No door opened above them, but they didn't dare stop. The lower down they went- three levels, five- the colder it got.

When they finally reached the bottom floor (number seven), the they found themselves in another long hallway. This, however, was grungy and dimly lit by yellow-orange, old emergency lamps that activated when the came near. Uhura shivered. "Do you think we can go back up?"

"No. They will be searching the entire factory by now. They know we were not where we were supposed to be, and I do not believe these people are the sort to be lenient." He peered down the corridor, which continued on dimly. "We must continue and hope there is an exit at the end."

Their walk was a long one. At some point or another, the walls turned to brick, and then the brick to cement. What felt like hours but could have only been thirty minutes for all they knew, Spock saw something at the end. "A staircase," he noted.

Their pace (which had slowed from the beginning of their venture) quickened again, and within minutes they reached the stairs and began to climb.

It was as long as their descent, only it took much more time. By the time they reached the top, Uhura was exhausted. Even Spock seemed a little tired.

They found themselves in a small, cramped building. There was a metal door at the end. Spock strode forward and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, so he opened it. "Lieutenant, come here."

She hurried forward and peered through the hole. "Oh my," she breathed, stepping through the doorway.

They seemed to be on top of a mountain. The slopes cascaded down beneath them, covered by a thick green rainforest. A cold wind blew mist about their feet and over the tops of the canopy, and birdsong could be heard.

"No wonder it's so cloudy all the time; we're on top of a mountain!" Uhura exclaimed. "Oh, _jinsi nzuri!"_

"I will not deny that it is a gratifying sight," Spock agreed, climbing over the rubble to stand beside her.

"I didn't know you spoke Swahili."

"I do not. Your tone indicates your pleasure." He fell silent for a moment, and then said, "Yet it is very strange."

"What's so strange about it?"

"There seems to be no other settlements like this, for as far as the eye can see." He gestured behind them, where beyond the little room- a small building, she now realized, there rose quite a ways behind them the walls of the encampment, and then out in front of them. "It is almost as if we have been living inside a fortress, which seems to be entirely isolated. Beyond it, one has the sense of… being absolutely alone. So high up a mountain, in the middle of a forest, it would not be unusual, and yet why would the door be unlocked? Do they desire for their laborers to escape?"

"No. Unless…" she said slowly. "Unless, there is nowhere to escape _to."_

There was a long silence as both of them considered this, and then Spock said, "We are jumping to assumptions much too quickly. Highly illogical. We require more data before we can come to any sort of conclusion."

"I suppose that's true," she agreed. "But Mr. Spock, can you imagine it? To be the only civilized place left, in all the world…" She shivered. "How awful."

He nodded wordlessly, his expression inscrutable.

She took one last lingering look over the green landscape in front of them, and then said with a small sigh, "Well, I suppose we should be getting back." She turned to walk back through the door.

"Lieutenant," he said suddenly. She turned back around, and he said (without really thinking about it), "We could stay a minute longer, if it pleases you." "_If it pleases you?"_ _Entirely irrational!_

"Oh," she said, sounding a little uncertain. "Why, thank you, Mr. Spock. Yes, I'd like that." She looked out over the mountain's edge at the forests below for a long time. "…It reminds me of home," she said softly. "If the sun were only shining, and I could hear the people on the edges of the town…" She sighed. "Do you ever miss home, Mr. Spock?"

There was a pause while he organized his thoughts. At last, he said, "I do, occasionally, miss Vulcan. It is an extraordinary planet. But while I do yearn for it, I do not miss it the way I would a home."

"Why?" she said, looking back it him with surprised.

He gave a small shrug. "I regard the _Enterprise_ as my home, in both the physical and mental sense."

She gave him a small smile. "Well, I guess that's what happens when you have to trust each other. You become a family."

He did not smile back, but she thought she saw his eyes soften ever so slightly. "An interesting sentiment, Lieutenant. I will keep it in mind."

**ST**

They returned much later than Spock had hoped for; by the time they emerged from the now-quiet factory, darkness had fallen over the camp and the stars had come out.

"Do you think they know we've been gone?" Even Uhura's whisper sounded too loud in the stillness so different from the winds that had blown the mist around their boots…

"Mr. Spock?"

He resisted the urge to shake himself awake. Interesting; he seemed to be becoming fatigued. "My apologies, Lieutenant. It is possible that the authorities are aware of our absence, but then again they may have not. The guards that take us from and return us to our cell are not constant." He paused, and then added in a rather un-Vulcan like way, "If Jim has any sense in him, he'll have kept his mouth shut."

Uhura stifled a laugh with a smile- _He needed to regain his focus; this was hardly the time to become tired-_ and nodded. Quickly as they could, they made their way back to their barracks. They made their way down the stairs, before Spock pulled sharply back, pushing her against the wall. "Guard," he said in a low voice. "Don't make a sound."

She nodded, and he slowly crept up behind the guard. In a moment, the man slumped to the ground, having fallen victim to the nerve pinch. Spock put his hands on either side of the man's temples and executed a shallow meld, implanting the suggestion he'd fallen asleep while on-duty. He unclipped the disk-key from his belt and motioned her forward.

Eidetic memories weren't for nothing, and he quickly navigated through the labyrinth of tunnels to find their cell. He glanced around, and then waved it in front of the door, which slid open.

They'd just barely had the time to step inside before they heard multiple voices cry out, _"Spock!" "Uhura!"_ An instant after that, both found themselves wrapped in a fierce embrace.

Kirk pulled back, relief evident on his face at the sight of his living comrades. "We thought they'd caught you, Spock, and when Uhura didn't come back either…" He shook his head. "Don't you two _ever_ do that to me again, understand?"

Uhura managed to laugh a little. "We're alright, Captain."

"That's not an answer, Lieutenant."

"Yes, we comprehend, Captain," Spock amended.

"So, did you find anything?" Kirk said eagerly, backing away.

"Not specifically what I was looking for, but perhaps something even more pertinent," Spock said. "Captain, there is a way out of this compound." He briefly explained the stairway.

"What the- why didn't you run?" Kirk said, aghast.

"It's all forest out there, Captain," Uhura said. "We think-" She glanced at Spock.

"It is possible that this is the only colony left on the entirety of the planet," he said. "If that is true, it could explain many things."

Kirk nodded, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to pace. After a moment, he turned back around. "We need more information," he said. "History records, scientific documents, anything. But we don't know where to access them."

"If you want to get your hands on anything like that," Qapchu' said, standing up, "You'll probably need to get inside the Main House. That's where they live; it's where they'd keep anything personal."

"We also need our communicators," Kirk reasoned. "They crushed mine the moment I landed, but that's only one of six. If they're all destroyed, Uhura, you'll need to set up a communication somehow."

"Yes sir."

"What exactly are you thinking of?" Captain Leyta questioned.

Kirk turned to meet her eyes. "There are hundreds of people in this compound, maybe thousands," he said. "If we want any chance of freeing them-"

"Assuming you can free yourselves," she cut in sharply.

"Assuming we can free ourselves, then we need to figure out why they're acting like sheep. A rebellion could be easy enough to stage, if they had weapons. But that's not the problem. The problem is that-"

"They've lost hope," she said, catching on. "Because of the _Ik-Mal's_ influence."

"Exactly. Captain Leyta," he said, extending a hand. "I think it's time the crews of the _USS_ _Felicity _and _Enterprise_ went on the offense."

She regarded him for a moment, before a determined smile began to spread. She shook the hand, and he grinned. It looked like the beginnings of a plan.


End file.
